Dicky Ticker
by Hutchie
Summary: Bodie finds out something about Doyle that worries him and makes him question their partnership.  Pre-series / Angst / drama.   Gen


_With thanks to inlovewithboth for the Britishness beta._

Pre-series / Angst / drama

**Dicky Ticker**

by Allie

They had been paired by Cowley for the last eight months when it happened.

Raymond Doyle stopped in the queue at a canteen and put a hand to his chest.

"You okay, mate? What's the matter?" Bodie nudged him with an elbow.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

But he sounded strained, and Bodie looked at him more closely. He didn't look fine.

"Here, siddown, mate." Bodie steered him to a chair and looked into his face. "Glass of water?"

Doyle nodded.

Bodie got it for him and held it till Ray could take it. He drank it. He looked better now, though a bit winded.

"Now what was that about?" said Bodie, in a tone that couldn't seem to decide between bluff and worried. It matched his face.

Doyle shook his head. "It's nothing. I'm fine now. My heart does that once in awhile—a great while. Speeds up for a few moments, and then I'm back to normal." He looked very nearly back to normal.

"You've got a dicky ticker?"

"No, I told you. Once in a great while. Usually means I've had too much caffeine. It's not a problem, just back off on the tea and coffee. And chocolate." He grinned, ruefully. "There is a reason I try to eat healthy, you know."

"So your heart doesn't pop." Bodie drew back, frowning at him, his brows pulling down. His expression was halfway between a pout and a very dangerous glower, and he looked undecided, hesitant with it and stubborn.

Doyle snorted. "I told you, mate, it's nothing."

"Nothing. Bet it isn't in your file." He reached out and jabbed Doyle in the chest, hard, pushing him back.

Doyle looked down at his hand and then up at him, frowning. "Hey, watch it, mate."

"You watch it." Bodie got up and walked away, frowning, his hands in his pockets.

Doyle frowned after him. Bodie wasn't the sort to normally walk away from lunch, no matter how annoyed.

##

Time for a workout. As they occasionally did, Bodie and Doyle faced each other for a match on the mat. But today Bodie's face was set, his eyes angry, and he wore a look of great determination.

When they fought, he fought with greater force that Doyle had ever seen. And there was a hardness in him, a lack of humour in his face.

"What's wrong with you today, mate?" Doyle grunted, when he had Bodie momentarily pinned.

"What's wrong with me, mate?" Bodie grunted, threw him off and pinned him in return, quick as a wink. "Nothing, that's what. What's wrong with you?" He jabbed a finger into Doyle's chest, which was heaving with exertion. "Dicky ticker."

"Oh, give it a rest!" Doyle rolled his eyes and got out of the hold, slippery as a snake. He tried to wrench Bodie's arm behind his back and get him in a firm hold.

Then for the next few minutes they were going at it too hard to talk.

When they were both heaving and hurting, and several people had gathered to watch the impromptu grudge match, Doyle said, "Bodie!" in a voice that was at once complaining and commanding.

Bodie, his chest heaving, glared down at his partner. "Had enough, _mate_? Heart can't take it?"

"That's what this is about? You think I'm not fit to watch your back!" exploded Doyle. With the strength of infinite rage, he threw him off and pinned him yet again. "In that case, _mate_, why don't you ask Cowley for a new partner?" He said it through his teeth, into Bodie's ear, and then gave him one shove and set him free, scrambling back and glaring at him.

"I will!" Bodie sprang to his feet, eyes shooting daggers, his jaw set tight. He whirled and ran from the room, Doyle pounding after him. They reached Cowley's office, stopped outside, and looked at one another. "Well go on then, it's your bright idea," said Doyle.

Bodie knocked.

"Yes? What is it?" Cowley sounded busy and annoyed.

Bodie swallowed. "Bodie and Doyle, sir. Need to see you, sir."

"Come in, then. But I haven't much time to give you." He looked up from his papers, and glared at them, his mouth set tightly. "Get on with it."

"Yes sir," mumbled Bodie. He jerked a thumb at his partner without looking at him. "I want a new partner. He's a liar and he's not fit for duty. Sir."

Doyle started at him again, fists rising, glaring.

"Doyle!" snapped Cowley, and Doyle stopped. "Now what's the meaning of this? I haven't time to officiate schoolboy fights."

"He's got a dicky ticker, sir," said Bodie. "Don't know how he passed the medical exam. Maybe he cheated." He turned to glare at his partner.

Doyle snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm only pretending to be the healthiest man in the room. He's talking nonsense. But if he wants a new partner, that's fine with me." Doyle glared, standing very stiffly, as though he were at attention and most definitely was not even going to glance at Bodie.

Cowley snorted. "Children, the both of you." He looked back at his papers. "What's this about a heart condition? Doyle is quite obviously in the best shape of his life, as witnessed by your last case together. And I feel certain he'd never have been accepted by the police force if he'd been less than adequate."

"Sir, he grabbed his chest and looked funny and had to sit down. He said it happens every so often!"

Cowley turned his fierce gaze on Doyle. "Doyle, is this true?"

"Essentially, sir, though he makes it sound worse than it is."

"Doyle, if your heart's hurting you, then get it checked out by a doctor. I shouldn't have to tell you that." He glanced at his papers, then looked back up at the men. "And you're on report, Bodie. You can't find anything better to do than run tattling to me every time you're displeased with your partner?"

"Yes sir." Bodie's mouth sagged, stubborn and turned down at the edges, almost pouting.

"Doyle, report to me with the doctor's note—don't delay. Go on, the both of you. It's obvious you haven't enough to do or you wouldn't be fighting. Bodie, you're assigned to help Murphy out on the drugs case."

"But we just got off the—"

"No arguing. If you had enough to do you'd be doing it. Go." He returned to his papers, and the two agents meekly left with muted "yes sirs," and heated glares at one another.

##

Doyle strode stiffly into Cowley's office, barely waiting for an "enter" in response to his knock. He laid a slip of paper on Cowley's desk. "The doctor says I have a mild heart condition, 'mitral valve prolapse.' It's not serious, shouldn't affect my work. It's quite common, and I'm showing almost no symptoms."

Cowley picked up the paper and scanned the lines. "Almost completely asymptomatic. Cleared for work. Pills can be prescribed if it gets worse. Keep in touch with your doctor. Hm." He looked up at Doyle. "That sounds reasonable. You should have had it known beforehand and in your file, of course, but since you're safe to work... Well, go and join Bodie on the drugs case." He waved a hand.

Doyle still stood stiffly. "Sir, I've no objection to getting a different partner."

"Oh?" Cowley looked up again, something of interest, even amusement, in his eyes now. "You're offended, are you? Your partner spouts off so you get to start fresh, is that it? And I suppose you wouldn't both drag these issues with you into a fresh start, and probably ruin a second partnership?"

Doyle said nothing.

Cowley shook his head. "It's not on, Doyle. You'll work together, or you'll end up as wolves like Murphy, whom I can send anywhere—and will, with no backup at all. No, I'm afraid you're stuck with Bodie, Doyle. A squabble won't stop that. I'll break you up if I have to, but not over a show of temper, and not when you've both worked well together so far. You're on your way to becoming my best team, if you don't derail."

Doyle blinked at the unexpected and offhanded praise. "But sir, if he doesn't want me—" A little emotion showed through his voice for the first time, instead of simply stiffness. He sounded pained.

Cowley tsked. "Come, Doyle, are you as much of a child as he is? Why don't they give me men instead of boys?"

Doyle blinked, looking offended all over again. "You think this is a game, sir? A—a child's slight? He doesn't trust me to watch his back. He wants out. You think I can work with someone like that?"

"No, and you're quick to leave when you're not wanted, aren't you? Bodie's the longest partner you've ever had, longer than any you had in the police force. And you're so quick to throw him away?"

"But sir...he won't work with me." Doyle sounded very unhappy.

Cowley took off his glasses and sighed. "He's trying to chase you away before you can leave him, Doyle."

Doyle stared.

"You've frightened him. Bodie's seen a great deal of death in his time. Don't you think he's learned to protect himself from it, by not getting close to people he thinks could die? Mercenaries don't make many friends—or even long-term allies. You learn to protect yourself particularly quickly in that business, and Bodie was one of the best."

"He thinks I'm dying? But that's ridiculous. I can beat him any day of the week. Well most days of the week. Sir."

Cowley was glaring at him. He jabbed his glasses at Doyle. "I shouldn't have to tell you these things. You've worked together for months. You should know what makes him tick. Now get down there, help him and Murphy with the drugs ring, and for pity's sake, patch things up with your partner—because I'm not wasting another one on you. Go!"

Doyle went.

Cowley stared after him, and sighed. He raised the phone, asked his secretary to summon Bodie. Then he glanced at the paper Doyle had left, and dialled the number on it. He spoke for several minutes with the doctor who had given the note, and by the time he was through, there was a knock on the door.

"Enter," said Cowley crisply.

Bodie came in, looking sullen. There was none of the cheeky lad about him today; he just looked miserable and lumpish.

"Here. Read this." Cowley tossed the paper across the desk.

Bodie picked it up and read. Slowly, his gaze rose to meet Cowley's, less unhappy now, more alert and questioning. "It's legit, sir?"

"I spoke with the physician. He should be perfectly fine, continue to do his job without hitch. He likely could've gone without ever knowing about it. If it does get worse, they can prescribe him some medication to help with symptoms. He'll be monitored by his doctor. There's no reason he can't keep working."

Bodie's uncomfortable gaze met Cowley's. "So he's not dying, sir?"

"No. He's not dying. Though if he had been, do you really think pounding the stuffing out of him on the mat would've helped?" He frowned at Bodie. "Yes, that's right—I heard about your little fight. You've certainly given the other agents something to gossip about." He stood up and walked around the desk. "I'll have you know I've turned down your request. I'll give you the same words I gave Doyle: I'm not wasting another partner on you. If I break you two up, you'll work alone. You're both volatile enough that it's unlikely to work with a second partner, if you can't make it stick with the man you've worked well with so far. No, don't argue, Bodie. I'll not have any words from you on that score. I made my choice, you're partnered. And I'll not undo that for some foolish whim of yours."

"He wants a new partner, too," said Bodie, halfway pouting again.

"Yes, because of the way you treated him when you saw weakness. I suppose a man like Doyle has been underestimated enough in his life to take a fair amount of offense when it happens. I still underestimate him sometimes, and I trained him. If you wish to keep the feud going between the two of you, I've no doubt you can manage it. However, you'd be far wiser to patch things up—as this man will be watching your back, now and for years to come."

Bodie looked more heartened by these words than the scolding tone would indicate he should be. "You really think so, sir?"

"I know so. As I said, I'm not breaking up this pair." He tapped the paper. "And the doctor assures me he'll be around for a great deal longer."

Bodie's mouth relaxed into a wide smile. "Thank you, sir."

He even saluted before he left.

Cowley sat at his desk, the tip of his glasses between his lips, staring thoughtfully at the door. Then he smiled and returned to his papers.

##

"Rematch?" asked Doyle calmly, slipping off his shoes at the mat and glancing at his partner.

Bodie hesitated. "Yeah, all right."

It was later in the day, and there was no one about to watch them this time.

They faced each other, each at the ready, hands up. Doyle swayed side to side, looking sharply for an opening. Bodie watched his face as much as the rest of him, wary and alert but also as though searching for something.

Then Doyle surged forward and Bodie was on his back on the floor.

Doyle let out a snort of disgust. "That's right, you arse. Don't fight back, that'll help!"

He slammed a hand down on the mat in frustration, then scrambled up to his feet and turned away in disgust.

Bodie tackled him round the legs and swept him onto the mat again, pinned him securely. He looked down at Doyle seriously. "Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" snapped Doyle, straining uncomfortably against the pin. "You cheated."

"Your chest. Does it hurt?"

Doyle pushed against him, trying to get free. "Sometimes. It's not too bad. I thought everyone had it."

"What—a chest that hurts?"

"Yeah! Doesn't yours ever hurt every once in awhile?"

"Not like that!"

"I mean an ache."

Bodie shook his head, looking mournful and upset again. Still pinning Doyle, he asked his next question. "How often does it go odd like that, speed up and thump for no reason?"

Doyle stopped struggling. He shrugged. "Not often. Less if I watch my diet and caffeine."

They regarded one another, rather warily. Bodie looked as though he wanted to be convinced, but wasn't. Doyle looked surprisingly patient.

Bodie drew back a little and Doyle moved gladly to get free. But instead of letting him up, Bodie grabbed hold of his shirt, and ripped it open.

"Hey!" protested Doyle, as buttons went flying.

"Buy you a new one." Bodie bent and pressed his ear against Doyle's pale chest, and listened.

The heart beat hard, steadily, sturdily. Doyle lay patiently still for it.

Bodie listened for awhile. "It sounds all right," he admitted. "Doesn't sound weak."

"It's not," said Doyle with the trace of annoyance.

Bodie kept listening.

Doyle put up with it for a while, then pushed him off and got up, with a grumpy expression as he looked at his busted shirt. "You _will_ buy me a new one—and not a cheap one, either."

"Not a cheap one," agreed Bodie, and reached for his shoes.

##

"Drink?" asked Bodie.

"You buying?"

"Yeah, I am, so you're drinking." He caught Doyle's arm and tried to pull him in the right direction.

Doyle flung his arm off and gave him a shove.

"Relax, mate!" Bodie laughed, caught himself smoothly, and swung around to give Doyle a shove in return.

Doyle, braced for it, stood like iron and glared at him. "How do I know you're not still testing me?"

"What, to see if you can drink enough?" Bodie smiled into his eyes.

Something Doyle saw in them made him relax a little. "I'm not going anywhere, you know."

"I know. Except to the pub." Bodie jerked his thumb towards the pub. "Are you with me or not?"

"I'm with you."

They fell into step. "Will you tell me, when it hurts?" asked Bodie quietly.

Doyle snorted. "Not hardly, the way you react!"

"I'm used to it now. I'll be ever so calm and collected. You need somebody to watch your back, if you're not up to scratch."

Doyle gave him a slow, challenging look, almost a bitter look. "I'm always up to scratch, _mate_."

Bodie looked unhappy again. "Ah, Doyle, that's not what I meant."

Doyle stopped walking, closed his eyes, and rubbed a thumbnail between his eyebrows. He looked weary and bleak. "It's no good, is it? You'll never forget. You'll always see me as damaged and weak now. Maybe we should get Cowley to separate us after all."

"That's not what I meant, Ray!" Bodie looked alarmed. He pulled Doyle off to the side of the street, near a wall. "Don't even talk like that. I need you to watch my back."

"Then will you _trust me_? I'm not gonna change, I'm not gonna die. And if you don't back off, I'll kick your arse from here to Tuesday." He glared into Bodie's face, tenacious and tightly strung.

"I'll adjust," said Bodie. "It's gonna take awhile to forget how you looked, to realise it didn't mean anything." He looked at Doyle, at his weary, pinched face, and suddenly grew alert and sad. "It's hurting now, isn't it?"

Doyle nodded wearily.

Bodie reached out to lay a hand on Doyle's chest. "Going fast, or—?"

Doyle shoved the hand away. "Aches."

Bodie fell silent a moment. "It's the stress, isn't it? I did some reading up on it, and stress makes it worse."

"Oh now you're reading up on me?" said Doyle, looking amused.

Bodie nodded. "And I'm stressing you, giving you a heartache."

Doyle snorted. "Mate, if just annoying me was enough, I'd go around hurting every time I was near you!"

Bodie's mouth sagged down at the edges, and he regarded Doyle closely. "You shouldn't be here, should you? CI-5's full of stress. Probably making you worse and worse."

Doyle snorted and gave Bodie a hard shove, so he had to stagger back or fall over. "Didn't you hear what the doctor said? I'm fine. And you think it would be less stressful being a cop again, working under people who— Or maybe a job at a factory, eh? That it? You really don't know anything, do you?" He glowered at Bodie. "This job is stressful, yeah, but it's a lot less stressful than anything else I could do—because sometimes, I _can_ make a difference."

"Oh? Save the world, you mean?" Bodie's voice had gone light and cheerful, and for some reason he was smiling. "And of course you have my witty badinage to cut the tension." He took Doyle's arm. Doyle shook him off. He took Doyle's arm again and gently led him towards the pub, still talking.

Doyle glared at him at first, but allowed himself to be led inside.

Author Note:

I was recently diagnosed with the heart condition I've given Doyle in

the story. The doctor said it's not a big deal, many people have it

and never know, etc., etc. But I've still been thinking about it and

realizing how it's affected my life. (And the chocolate / caffeine

thing!) So I gave it to Doyle (someone strong, who'd never give in

to fears, anxieties, or occasional pains), and it helped me feel better

about things. :)


End file.
